


u can lay your hands on me

by IneffableInsomniac



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nail Polish, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Self-Indulgent, Top Crowley (Good Omens), aziraphale wants to get roughed up but crowley is Soft, ending is dumb lmao, oscar wilde makes an appearance, this was written in one sitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 01:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19713298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableInsomniac/pseuds/IneffableInsomniac
Summary: crowley can paint his own nails just fine, thank you very much. he just... wants to get his hands held.takes place shortly post-unpocalypse. i'm new at smut so apologies for any weird inconsistenciesi welcome constructive criticism! always happy to get feedback :3





	u can lay your hands on me

**Author's Note:**

> this is just self-indulgent garbage i'm so sorry

Crowley, being ambidextrous and also a fucking celestial, could paint his own nails. Heaven, he’d been doing it for millennia (the ancient Egyptians had a _great_ sense of style), and even without the aid of a minor miracle, he could do a bang-up job of it.

But he wanted ~~an excuse to touch Aziraphale~~ Aziraphale to do it for him.

The two had been spending quite a lot of their time together in the days since the unpocalypse, seeing as they were now on their own side and could enjoy each other’s company without a certain purple-eyed Archangel and the Prince of Hell breathing down their necks. Another perk of being on their own team, so to speak, is that they could finally address the 6000-odd years of tension between the two of them.

Crowley wasn’t sure what kind of tension, exactly. Romantic? Sexual? _Friendly?_ The only thing he was confident about was that he wanted his angel all to himself, and without his demonic superiors to stop him, he was going to flirt like there was no tomorrow.

Which there almost wasn’t.

He tried not to think too hard on that.

“Hey, angel? Could you come here a minute?” Crowley called from the back of the bookstore. Aziraphale had been sitting out front for the past hour or so to scare off an influx of weekend window shoppers, but the shop had nearly emptied, both in anticipation of the lunch hour and in fear of the strange shopkeeper who was staring them down silently as they perused the shelves of his bookstore.

It was only about three seconds before Zira poked his head around the corner, an irritated look on his face. “Keep it quick. I’m worried that the man who’s still here is going to try to make a purchase!” he hissed, glancing back over his shoulder at the aforementioned man, who was completely oblivious to the principality’s frustration.

Crowley blanched slightly. He knew his angel (probably) wouldn’t hurt a fly, and that his frustration held no malice, but that look on such a powerful angel sent a chill down his spine. Ignoring the fact that it was also kind of hot, he made his request.

“I’m having trouble with my nails. You wouldn’t mind painting them for me, would you, angel?”

The demon made his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes. This sight, sans dark glasses, would have terrified any mortal, but he knew full well that Aziraphale would cave to it.

The angel’s face went blank and unreadable for a split second before he sighed. “Fine, but you’ll have to wait until HE-“ this was punctuated with a nod towards the front of the store- “leaves. Sound good?”

“Of course. Jolly good. Tickety-boo,” Crowley teased in a voice that sounded nothing like Aziraphale, earning him an eye-roll (when did Zira learn that?) and no response. “Take your time!” he called as the angel proceeded back into the shop and shut the door behind him with much more force than was necessary.

Success.

Crowley slipped his glasses back on, miracled up a bottle of nail polish in a red so dark it looked black [1], and leaned back in his chair to wait. A little cat-nap wouldn’t hurt before he-

Well, he didn’t actually have the slightest idea what he hoped was going to happen. Sure, the physical proximity and hand-holding might help move things along, but he was just going to play the thing by ear (a nice way of saying he was unprepared and terrified).

Crowley didn’t actually end up sleeping, as his sudden realization had coaxed his heart into his throat and butterflies into his stomach. No, not butterflies. It felt like a snake in his intestines. And he would know [2].

He was jolted out of imagining every single way Aziraphale could reject him by the sound of the shop’s door opening and then shutting. The customer had left, and now he had to face the reality of his request. Crowley was about 70% sure that the moment Aziraphale touched his hand, he would simply catch fire and that would be the end of it.

Fuck.

“Thank goodness! Managed to scare the chap off with a good glare when he tried to check out. Now, where were we?” Aziraphale’s usual cheeriness and enthusiasm had returned following the vanquishing of the threat to his precious tomes, and all was well. Crowley was internally screaming at himself for his stupid forwardness, but it was fine. It’s fine. It’s fine!

He slipped the sunglasses back off, hoping that his pupils weren’t dilated noticeably. Hand-holding wouldn’t be a big deal for most, but pining for 6000 years does strange things to a demon.

Crowley picked up the bottle of nail polish, shaking it in the angel’s direction with a smirk. “I believe you were going to give me a manicure, before your customer so rudely interrupted me.”

“Well, I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but who thinks they can just waltz into a bookstore and _buy_ … something?” Aziraphale responded, only registering the absurdity of his complaint partway through.

While Zira blushed and began to shake the bottle of nail polish, Crowley chose to take the joke and run with it. “Ah yes, the entitlement nowadays! People just demanding to make purchases at places of commerce? The AUDACITY!” The demon would have continued to lampoon his angel, but the joke combined with Aziraphale’s clear embarrassment sent him into a rather un-demonic fit of giggles.

The laughter was cut short when Aziraphale, having opened the bottle of nail polish and seated himself on the ottoman opposing the chair, picked up Crowley’s right hand from its place on the side table.

Thankfully, Crowley was sitting in a reasonably normal position on the chair and not with his legs in two different timezones. He would definitely have fallen out of the chair at the sudden casual-yet-strangely-intimate contact.

As it stood, the pair had locked eyes. Crowley’s pupils were definitely a big larger than normal, and he looked awfully warm. Aziraphale, fully aware of Crowley’s state and of his intentions, decided to play innocent. “Crowley, you look awfully warm. Would you like me to take your jacket?” He offered casually, standing to fulfill the offer.

Crowley, still reeling, simply nodded, prompting the angel to ease his jacket off of his shoulders and drape it over the desk nearby. Aziraphale then returned to his perch on the ottoman, crossing his legs and scooting closer (which, in Crowley’s opinion, made him look even cuter). This time, when Aziraphale reached for his hand, he offered it and was prepared for the angel’s warm skin against his.

What Crowley still wasn’t prepared for, though, was that Aziraphale, needing both hands, rested the demon’s hand on his upturned knee and part of his inner thigh while he reopened the bottle of nail polish.

And Crowley lost all control.

When Aziraphale looked back up, Crowley was bright red and his eyes were almost entirely black. It took him a moment to register that those were his _pupils_! He had never before seen Crowley quite this undone, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he most definitely wanted to see it again.

What he didn’t know was that Crowley was thanking his lucky stars (the ones he hung, naturally) that his absurdly tight jeans hid most of the evidence that the situation was turning him on. The demon had never been this physically close to Aziraphale, and it was driving him mad. He was trying desperately to stay calm, cool, and collected, but he knew by the wondrous look on Zira’s face that he had no hope.

“Crowley, are you feeling quite alright? You look out of sorts. Would you like something to drink?”

Crowley processed this for a moment. As much as alcohol sounded like a good solution, he really didn’t want to have to take his hand off of Aziraphale’s thigh. “Nah, angel, I’m good. Paint away!” He delivered in his usual exaggerated, theatrical tone.

Aziraphale shrugged. Who was he to deny the demon what he wanted? Instead of responding, he lifted Crowley’s right hand with his left and began to paint his thumbnail.

Fuck. Crowley almost protested when the angel removed his hand from his thigh, but his mouth went dry when Aziraphale began holding it in his instead. Although he wasn’t a reptile anymore, he still tended to seek out warmth, and the angel was quite a source of it. As Zira moved on to his index finger, the demon mentally decided that this was absolutely worth 6000 years of yearning.

Crowley closed his eyes and let out a pleased hum as Aziraphale continued his work on Crowley’s right hand. The angel smiled, knowing that his demon was enjoying the attention. He finished with the right hand and placed it back on his knee, switching to the left and relishing Crowley’s obvious unsettlement and his visible arousal, which was becoming more and more obvious the longer this went on.

Even skinny jeans could only do so much.

While Crowley tried desperately to figure out any way to get closer to the angel, Aziraphale decided that his plan to put on a second coat of nail polish might discorporate the poor demon, and so he finished Crowley’s left hand and placed it on his opposite knee.

The demon, wanting to continue the hand-holding but also very pleased with his hands’ current location, opened his eyes to reveal the same sight from before. He marveled at the beauty of his angel. Aziraphale sat there cross-legged, with his thighs splayed out and with Crowley’s hands on top of them. He was a sight to behold, and a sight that Crowley wanted to behold again in the future.

They sat there in that position for a bit, neither one wanting to disturb the peace and the intimacy of the moment. Crowley spoke first.

“They look great, angel. Thanks for-”

He was cut off when Aziraphale leaned in and met his lips in a kiss. They were kissing now. This was nice.

Crowley thought he might combust.

Not forgetting the nails, he quickly miracled them dry and wound his fingers up into Aziraphale’s hair, pressing gently at the joining of their mouths with his tongue. He and Zira were both sloppy, too flustered and pent up (six! thousand! years!) for anything precise, but their enthusiasm more than made up for it. Crowley broke the kiss to begin pressing gentle kisses and bites along the angel’s jawline and down the side of his neck, rendering him nearly incoherent.

“Your- ah, you- your miracles are working fine, aren’t they?” Aziraphale teased in between gasps and moans.

Crowley had no shame. He pulled back, looking the thoroughly debauched angel in the eyes. “Sorry, angel, but I just couldn’t resist. And it seems to have worked out for the better, I’d say.” He added with a wink.

Before Aziraphale could tease him any more for being a hopeless romantic and setting up a situation just to get in his pants, something changed. The angel was disoriented for a moment, until he realized what had happened. Crowley had used one of his (fully functional) miracles to deposit them into Zira’s bed, and he had flipped them over.

Now, Crowley was looming over the angel, a freshly manicured hand on each side of his head.

Aziraphale quite liked the view.

He would’ve told the demon just that, but Crowley leaned down and captured his mouth in another kiss that pulled the air from Zira’s lungs. In this position, however, Crowley had one disadvantage: his hands were busy supporting him. Aziraphale’s, however, were free to do what they liked, and Crowley found himself moaning into the kiss as Aziraphale reached up and ran his hands over Crowley’s chest, aiming vaguely for his nipples.

Crowley managed to free up one of his hands and began fumbling for Aziraphale’s bow tie, which was not an easy task considering the state he was already in by this point. Aziraphale was the first one to pull away from the kiss this time, which he did so that he could begin removing his many layers. Crowley began to do the same, but neither of them were particularly competent with buttons at this level of arousal, and so Crowley waved his hand vaguely and they both found themselves in their last layers of clothing, which were promptly discarded.

“Angel,” Crowley panted, “I don’t suppose you have any lube lying around?”

Aziraphale sighed and responded with “No, dear. You have miracles, you know.”

Without arguing that he was asking for politeness’s sake, Crowley simply summoned a tube of the stuff, popped open the cap, and squeezed a liberal amount onto his fingers, which he began to warm up. Just to know, he decided to ask. “Have you ever… done this before?”

Aziraphale blushed a bit. “Well, I- um- once. It’s been a while, though.” [3]

Crowley decided that, for the time being, he would ignore the wave of jealousy and possessiveness that he felt flow through his veins at Zira’s answer, and chose instead to begin pressing one well-slicked finger slowly into Aziraphale, who moaned wantonly at the touch.

“Hah- Crowley!” Zira exclaimed, twisting his hands into the bedsheets. Crowley had begun to crook his finger upwards, grazing Aziraphale’s prostate as he thrust in and out. He slowly began to add a second finger, and Zira saw stars.

“God- Crowley, don’t- mmn- don’t stop!” The angel continued to let out little huffs and pants between his moans, and Crowley grinned wickedly. As he continued to fuck Aziraphale with two of his fingers, he leaned back over him and placed a gentle kiss over Zira’s collarbone before beginning to suck and bite at the spot, causing a bruise to begin forming and drawing a loud cry from the lungs of the principality.

Crowley still hadn’t touched Aziraphale’s dick, and the angel was beginning to slip into a haze from the lust coursing through his body. As his lover began to press a third manicured finger into him, the demon ran his freshly painted nails down Aziraphale’s torso, earning a lewd sound and a moaned “please” that made him very impatient to finish preparing Zira.

Finally, he decided that Aziraphale was stretched enough and reached again for the lube bottle to slick himself up. Zira simply laid there propped up on his elbows, transfixed at the sight of the demon he loved. They had both wanted this for so long, and the realization that they were finally getting what they wanted made both their heads spin.

Crowley placed the head of his cock against Aziraphale’s entrance. “Do you want to keep going?” He asked, wanting to ensure his angel’s safety and comfort.

Aziraphale wanted to smack him.

“Yes, please!” He moaned in an effort to get Crowley to comply. No sooner had the words left his mouth than the demon was pushing forward into the slick heat of his lover’s body, and both were moaning in pleasure.

Crowley set a rough pace, much to Aziraphale’s delight. He leaned up and raked his nails down the demon’s back, pulling a hiss of pain and arousal from him. Crowley moved his hand from Zira’s hip to begin stroking his dick. They both know they weren’t going to last long.

“Zira- angel, aah, I’m- ‘m close,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale nodded. “Me too.” He whined deep in his throat as Crowley passed his hand over the head of his cock, pushing him rapidly towards his climax.

“Crowley, I’m- haah, I’m- !” Aziraphale’s orgasm crashed into him, cutting him off mid-sentence as his back arched and he came, covering Crowley’s hand and his own chest in his seed.

Crowley moaned loudly as his angel tensed around him and he was quickly spilling into Aziraphale with a shout.

They both remained there for a long moment, riding out the aftershocks of their climaxes.

Crowley was the first to compose himself enough to speak. “So, what… what happens now? Are we…” He trailed off.

This time, Aziraphale did smack him. Gently.

“Crowley, there are matters to discuss, but perhaps we could have this conversation when we’re not coated in semen and you aren’t _inside_ me?”

Crowley flushed furiously. “Right, of course, I, um…” The usually witty demon was at a complete loss for words. Idiot!

“Crowley, don’t worry. I love you, we just… are both in dire need of a shower.” The angel giggled, and Crowley’s face lit up.

“Love you too, angel. Now, how about that shower?” He said, picking up his angel bridal-style. “I’m sure there’s room for two.”

**Author's Note:**

> [1] I’m imagining OPI’s Black Cherry Chutney or Black to Reality here.
> 
> [2] In all honesty I have no fucking idea what I was trying to imply here. I was going for “he’s been a snake so he knows snakes” but ended up somewhere around “Crowley eats live snakes.” Would that be cannibalism? Maybe? Kinda? Fuck. It’s like 5AM and I haven’t slept. Living up to my username.
> 
> [3] Oscar Wilde.
> 
> Black Cherry Chutney: https://www.opi.com/nail-products/nail-polish/black-cherry-chutney#ugMPkgrkGf8Uc0tJ.97
> 
> Black to Reality: https://www.opi.com/nail-products/nail-polish/black-reality#wJxHWdhFiMijGMej.97


End file.
